


Not Alone

by RedCoatsRedder



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Cute, Father son relationship, Fluff, George Washington is a Dad, I'm Sorry, Light Angst, Other, Washingdad, haha i enjoy making these sad, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 05:44:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14372175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedCoatsRedder/pseuds/RedCoatsRedder
Summary: On the anniversary of his mother's death, Alexander Hamilton finds some much needed comfort in George Washington.





	Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like mindless fluff is something everyone needs.

The sun rose on what most New Yorkers expected to be just another typical day. For Alexander Hamilton, the rising sun brought back painful memories. 

On this day, many years ago, his mother had died from a deadly disease that he himself had only just managed to fight off. 

Eliza was still asleep. She deserved a rest, so Alexander quietly got dressed and wrote a quick note, explaining that he’d left for work but didn’t want to wake her. 

Sudden hot tears came to his eyes, his mother, too, had enjoyed much of the things that Eliza did. Pressing the tears away, he quickly walked out into the streets, getting lost in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. 

The building that housed the offices of the government was crowded with people, cabinet members and other officials heading in, messengers dashing out, and Alexander quickly slipped in the door.

Two familiar faces loomed out at him. Jefferson and Madison. He sighed. Dealing with them was always a hassle, but it could never be avoided. 

“Hamilton! Lovely to see you.” Jefferson grinned down at him. “We have a cabinet meeting this afternoon. I expect to see you there.” 

Madison chimed in, “Let’s keep the fighting to a minimum this time. Both of you.” He glared at them. 

Sighing, Alexander recollected on the last meeting. He and Jefferson had nearly broken into an all out fist fight. 

“Don’t worry, James, I won’t do anything.” Jefferson promised. “See you later, Hamilton?” 

A halfhearted wave, and Alexander turned to go to his own office. His mother had always warned him against picking fights, but sometimes he couldn’t help it when it came to Jefferson. No. He was not going to dwell on her. 

Picking up his quill, he tried to plan out what to say at the meeting, but the words just wouldn’t come. Sighing, he laid his head down on the desk and tried in vain to block out memories of his past. 

A dark room, his mother’s arms around him as they both coughed and wheezed, attempting to fight off the illness that only one of them would recover from……. 

No. He was not going to think about that. 

He’d sat up the next morning, feeling a little better, but his mother was cold, stiff and unmoving. 

Not going to think about it, not going to think about it…….

The way he’d shaken her shoulders hopefully, trying to push away the thought that she wouldn’t wake up, she couldn’t hear him, pleading for her to open her eyes and smile, to say something, anything. 

Alexander suddenly gasped, a single tear running down his cheek, but he quickly brushed it away. Every year, on the anniversary of her death, he mourned his mother all over again. It had been easier to distract from it during the war, when every day held a chance that he or his comrades might die, but now, it was much harder. 

No matter. A quick glance at the clock revealed that he’d better hurry along, it was time for the cabinet meeting. 

Alex hurried inside the room and slid into his seat, ignoring the glances from around the room. He was never late, hopefully this wouldn’t draw any attention. 

He was barely listening as Washington greeted the cabinet members, and Jefferson stood to say his piece. He didn’t comment on the man’s speech, just listened tiredly. 

Thomas sat down, and grinned over in his direction. Alexander just barely heard Washington say, “Secretary Hamilton. You have the floor.” He didn’t see the concerned look Washington pegged him with either. 

Getting to his feet rather absentmindedly, he looks around the room. Anyone can see his heart just isn’t in the debate today. 

Alexander cleared his throat, and quietly addressed the room. “Jefferson’s idea isn’t that bad, but if he fixed a few key elements it would be far more successful.” He sits back down. 

You can practically hear everyone’s jaws hitting the floor. Hamilton never agreed with Jefferson. That was about as likely as oil and water mixing. Madison and Jefferson are speechless. Washington’s eyes are narrowed. Something’s wrong. Alexander looks a bit lost, as if he’s misplaced something important. The man clears his throat awkwardly. “Well, then. If no one has anything else to say, meeting adjourned.” 

Filing out of the room, Alexander almost bumps into James Madison. Murmuring an apology, he turns to walk away but is stopped by a hand on his shoulder. It’s Jefferson. He coughs once, and rubs the back of his neck. “Listen, Hamilton, thanks I guess, I’ll see you later.” 

Nodding his head slowly, Alex proceeds to his office. Twirling his quill, he sighs. Earlier, he was feeling overwhelmed by grief, now it’s just a dull ache. He can’t decide which one is worse. 

Washington Perspective 

He liked to think he could tell if someone was suffering. It had always been a helpful thing to know. And now, Washington is sure that there is something wrong with Hamilton. 

It wasn’t just the fact that he actually agreed with Thomas Jefferson. He had seen that the boy wasn’t interested in arguing, something he did with a passion with anyone who’d argue back. Something in his eyes had tipped him off. Alexander had looked like he had lost someone dear to him. Washington knew that look, he had worn it many a time. 

Jefferson and Madison are standing outside, conferring over their plan. Madison was explaining something to Jefferson. 

“.....and if we just get this part up, we can finalize the plans for the other branch.” 

Washington strode over to them. “Gentlemen.” 

“Mr. President.” 

“Your Excellency.” 

Looking around for Hamilton, Washington asked, “Did you see which way Hamilton went? I would like to speak with him.” 

Jefferson quickly responded, “Really, sir, we didn’t do anything, he’s probably not at fault for whatever’s happened.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Washington held back a smile. “You two seem to be getting along better as of late.”

Grinning slightly, Jefferson said, “Well, I figured I owed him one for today, but if it’s all the same to you, it looked like he was heading back towards his office.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Jefferson. Mr. Madison.” 

Washington walked down the hall a ways, stopping outside Alexander’s office. The door was closed, and no sound was coming from behind it, which probably meant that the boy was hard at work, like always. He knocked on the door. 

A flurry of motion sounded from inside. It seemed that someone was shuffling around papers, and a slight clatter, like a quill or three had rolled to the floor. Someone made a sniffling noise, and footsteps hurriedly rushed over to the door. 

Alexander’s Perspective 

When he had heard the knock on the door, he had been laying on his desk with his head on his arms, letting painful memories of his mother rush over him, like they did every year on this day. But he had quickly moved his papers around, hoping to appear busy, and in the process several of his quills had been relocated to the floor. He sniffed once, trying to clear his head. 

Alexander cracked open the door tiredly, beginning, “Look, Jefferson, it’s really not a bad idea, just ask Madison or Burr maybe, I-” he cuts off suddenly, seeing who’s standing outside. 

Washington. 

Oh. 

“Your Excellency, sir, really, I apologize, I- I thought you were Jefferson, sir.” Hoping to make up for his folly, he opens the door wider, and stands to the side, allowing the President entrance. 

The older man smiled down at Alexander, amused. “Yes, I can see that. No, it is alright.”, he responded, for Alex had opened his mouth to apologize again. Closing it quickly, he stood off to the side with his hands clasped behind him, watching as Washington strolled over to the window, gazing outside. “Hamilton, I know you fairly well, well enough to see that something is wrong. You can talk about it, if you so wish.” 

Alexander stumbled backwards a step. He hadn’t been expecting that, of all things. “Sir, really, I- I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, really, sir, everything’s fine, it really is.” 

Washington turned, frowning. No, something was indeed wrong with Hamilton. The boy was always well-spoken, he never tripped over his words. “Alexander, now, honestly. You aren’t very good at hiding things, you know. Just tell me what’s upsetting you so much.” 

Choking back a sob, Alexander shook his head. “Mr. President, I give you my word that everything is alright.” 

“Ah. I see.” Washington nodded, his tone suddenly gentle. “Come stand here by me.” He gestured to the space beside him.  
Alexander came hesitantly forward, until he and Washington were standing side by side, looking out the window at the crowds of people on the street, going about their normal lives. Washington sighed, and brought his hand up to rest upon Alex’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, son. Who did you lose?”

For a moment. Alexander was too shocked to respond. How had Washington known? But of course, the man had probably lost people who were dear to him, and thus would be able to tell when someone was grieving. Something told him that the President would understand, that he could tell Washington. “My mother.” 

Washington made a noise deep in his throat, like a prompt to continue. “She-she died on this day, when I was twelve. We were, we were both sick, and, well, she-she didn’t recover like I did.” A sudden hot tear trailed down his face. He quickly tried to wipe it away, but Washington grabbed his hand and brought it back down to his side. “It’s alright, son. It’s alright to show sadness, it’s only natural.” His hand didn’t let go of Alexander’s. 

Hanging his head a bit, Alexander nodded. He didn’t know why, but Washington’s presence was oddly comforting. He heard the President sigh again, then felt his arms wrapping around him, pulling him close, and rubbing his back soothingly. More tears slid down his face as he returned the hug. 

Tilting his head up slightly so he could look at Washington, he asked, “Sir, if you don’t mind my asking, how could you tell?” 

The older man only shook his head and said, “I too know what it’s like to lose someone, Alexander.” 

He only nodded and buried his head in Washington’s chest. The man didn’t seem to mind, just reached a hand up to cup the back of Alexander’s head. He hummed a tune softly, and suddenly Alex felt like a little kid again. 

They stood like that for a while, until Alexander took a shaky breath and gazed up at Washington, who smiled back and brushed Alex’s hair out of his face. “You’re alright now?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“I’m glad to hear that, Alexander. Remember, if you ever need someone, I’m here, okay?” 

Alexander nodded. “I will, sir.” 

The President studied his boy for a moment, then nodded once. “Good evening, Alexander. I will see you tomorrow, son.” He clapped Alexander on the back and turned to go. 

Before he could leave, Alexander spoke up. “Goodnight, sir. I-I…” He can’t finish, but Washington seems to understand. He smiles again, and heads out of the office. 

Alexander sits down behind his desk, and picks up his quill. The words flow effortlessly into a letter to Washington, he’ll send it to the man tomorrow, to say everything he couldn’t right now.


End file.
